Speak Softly
by peppymint
Summary: In which Methos gains two troublesome students.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_Well, made my decision about the next story obviously_

_Was leaning towards "The Evil that Men Do" at first_

_But I've done a lot of writing in the DC/MK Fandom lately_

_Time to take a short break. Don't want to burn myself out._

_That is what happened when I finished the Saga of Hiraku Kazama_

_Those of you who follow my plunnie corral will notice this isn't the original idea_

_Did some thinking and decided that this one should be written as the prequel_

_Will write the modern day one under the title of "And Carry A Big Stick."_

_Until that happens though, hope you like this_

_My brain really does need an off switch_

**Speak Softly: Chapter One**

A string of vicious curses, passing through a slew of obscure, and in some cases extinct languages escaped the lone traveler's lips. The ground rolled beneath his feet, causing him to stumble. Another might have thought it was an earthquake. However, Peter Helm, formerly known as Ben Adams, likewise known as Daniel Peirce, Alexandro Vargo, Jacques de la Ponce. Well, you get the picture. For simplicities sake, let's just refer to him as Methos.

Whatever his name, it was fair to say the ancient immortal had been around the block a few times. He knew the difference between a natural Earth tremor and one caused by an explosion. He had witnessed both phenomenon many times. Too many, to be honest.

Thus Methos was unsurprised to see the dark plume of smoke, rising in the distance. Dusting himself off, he retrieved his pack from where it had fallen, slinging it back over his shoulder. Oh well, whatever was going on, it wasn't any business of his. He didn't want it to be either.

The immortal had only made it a few steps when he paused, sneaking a look back at the sight. His mind flashing backwards in time to the one and only person he had seen today. This area was not well traveled, one of the reason's he had chosen the route he had. Methos was fairly certain the headhunter who caused his abrupt exit from the America's hadn't followed him. Still, there was no reason to take chances. He had gone out of his way not to leave witnesses behind him.

Truth be told, Methos had been surprised to see anyone on this path at all. It barely even qualified as a trail. A few more years and it would probably be swallowed back up by the wilderness. The man had been tall. Slender with sharp features and a pair of piercing amber eyes. He had also been pre-immortal. Had been being the operative words.

Groaning, the traveler turned back the other way. Walking towards the sight of the explosion. In spite of Methos' best efforts to portray himself as a heartless bastard, there were certain lines he did not cross (not as long as there was another option anyway). Hey, he was a survivor, and the oldest living immortal wasn't about to apologize for that.

Getting back on topic, on that list of dos and don'ts was a section devoted to leaving clueless young immortals to their own devices. All sorts of nasty things could happen. Nasty for him as well. He still remembered that young idiot who had tried to set himself up as a god. Needless to say, it hadn't ended well.

It had been a couple of centuries since Methos had last had a student, so perhaps he was due. Granted, there was no guarantee the other had been in the building when it blew, but he wasn't about to hold his breath. Optimism not being something that came naturally to the five thousand year old man. There was no guarantee the man hadn't been either.

His private opinion of the matter did not change when he reached the still smoking ruin. The brunette looked right, then left. No one, and given the pre-immortal had been wearing a police officer's uniform, there was really only one place he could be. Under that mess.

Once again, Methos dropped his pack. This time on purpose. He was not especially found of manual labor. There were far more intelligent ways to make a living. But, the immortal knew from personal experience just how unpleasant being buried alive could be. Though that knowledge didn't stop the immortal from complaining bitterly about the situation as he reached down to shift the first stone.

Several hours later the ancient was tired, sweating, and somewhat peeved. Was it too much to ask for the object of his search to be under the first pile of rubble? Or even the second? "This would be so much easier," he snarled to himself. "If I could sense him."

Unfortunately being temporarily dead was the sole way for one immortal to hide from the senses of another. Ramirez had been of the opinion it was a survival trait. A built in safeguard to protect their bodies while they were helpless. Whatever the reason, it was a pain.

Methos was on the verge of giving into temptation and just waiting for the buzz when he uncovered one blue clad leg. "Finally," he said, knocking the board aside. Quickly, the immortal uncovered the rest of his prospective student, taking little care. The man was dead after all, at least for now. Only to receive another surprise.

There were two bodies. The pair laid close together, practically in each others' arms. A wealth of red hair cascading from the smaller man's scalp to spread over his companion's chest. Both figures' eyes were glazed over. A silent testament that neither had flinched as they met their fate.

Considering the method of their deaths, the bodies were in relatively good condition. A brief survey of the area showed why. They had tried to shield each other. Several beams having been cut straight through before the building collapsed. If circumstances had been more favorable, they might have managed it.

This told Methos two things about his new charge. One, that the wolf-eyed man was more than passably familiar with a sword. And two, that he wasn't a quitter. No matter how long the odds. Two things that would stand the other in good steed over the course of his new life.

It occurred to the ancient at this point that he should move the body. Before someone else happened along. Someone mortal. The smoke from the explosion had to be visible miles away. It was inevitable that an investigation of some sort would ensue.

Methos was just about to do so when he jumped back with a startled oath. Nearly tripping over his own two feet. Eyes wide as two disparate buzzes rang in his metaphorical ears.

The two men inhaled simultaneously, chests rising and falling in unison. Meanwhile, Methos just stared. Really, what were the odds? Soon enough though, a wry grin crossed his features. "Another man," he said dryly. "Would ask what they did to deserve this." As for him, well, he already knew.

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

_Well that is one chapter complete_

_Have the rest of the story outlined_

_More or less at least_

_We'll just have to see how things go_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing_

_At least not in the literary field_

_Someday, n'challa_

**Chapter Two**

Saitou and Kenshin regained their feet with impressive speed considering the circumstances. That they didn't trip over each other as they did so was just another indication of their skill. Well, that and how long they had known each other. Two pairs of eyes focused first on the figure in front of them, and then on each other. Why weren't they dead?

Unconsciously, Kenshin's off hand (the one not holding a sword) brushed over a rip in his clothing. Carefully probing the flesh beneath. There was no wound. There should have been a wound. He remembered the explosion, an impact, and then . . .

Nothing. He couldn't remember anything further. Everything had gone black. The redhead searched his mind somewhat frantically, but it didn't help. All he found was darkness. Something he should be worried about, all the ex-assassin's instincts screamed at him.

His companion held similar thoughts. Especially as unlike the former hitokiri, he had not been killed instantly. Saitou had lasted a whole twenty seconds before succumbing to his wounds. And he knew he hadn't imagined that. The evidence still lay on the ground below them, written in crimson.

"Who are you?" the wolf growled at the stranger. "What have you done to us?" His gripe on his blade did not tighten. He was too experienced for that. Saitou remained in a perfect position to either defend or attack, depending on what happened next.

"A logical conclusion I suppose," Methos said. Blowing a stray bit of sweat soaked hair out of his eyes before placing his hands on his pockets and slouching slightly. An action purposely designed to make him look less threatening. Neither of the war veterans were fooled. "But I am afraid you did it to yourselves."

The pair shared another look. Now what the heck did that mean?

"Congratulations," the ancient continued dryly. "And welcome to immortality."

There was a long silence. Then Saitou snorted. "So we're immortal are we." His voice wasn't truly disbelieving, in spite of the vibe he was trying to give out. But he wasn't ready to just accept the other at his word either. "And I suppose you are as well."

"Of course," Methos replied nonchalantly. Carefully, as not to alarm his audience, the brunette pulled one of his many concealed knives. Pulling the blade deeply, but not too deeply, across his palm.

In his long life, the ancient had known more than one immortal who went with the knife through the heart routine. Not him though, dramatic death scenes had never been his style. At least not ones with him in the staring role. For starters, it fucking hurt.

Methos held out the limb for their inspection. It had already begun to heal, the power of his quickening dancing across the small wound. A moment later it was gone entirely. There wasn't even a scar. "Satisfied?" he asked, wiping away the remnants of blood on the dark inner lining of his overcoat.

Another silence, this one longer than the previous ensued. The newly immortal pair lightly slicing the tip of one finger each. The result was predictable. The wounds vanishing nearly as quickly as they had been inflicted.

Slowly, Kenshin flexed the digit. A wound that would have normally taken days to heal had done so in seconds. There wasn't even any residue pain. A pair of violet eyes came up, locking on the stranger. "So what's the catch?" His soft voice was slightly husky. Those who knew the ex-hitokiri well would have heard the unspoken warning in the tone. Saitou certainly did, but he said nothing. After all, this was their lives. He wanted to know the catch too.

Slowly, Methos smiled. "Smart," he commented. Just his kind of people. Perhaps, he considered, this wouldn't be such a chore after all.

Kenshin said nothing, merely shrugging in response. Everything had a catch, and life was rarely fair. That was a lesson he had learned long before he had earned the name Battousai. If it was, he would probably be a farmer now.

"You are only immortal," the older man informed them. "As long as you keep your head."

"I assume you are speaking literally," Saitou said calmly. Quite calmly really. But then, there had been more than one person over the years who had sought to place his head on a pike. In fact, he had only just escaped that fate at the end of the revolution. There had been many in the new government who had felt he was too dangerous to live. It was hardly a new concept for him. Nor Battousai.

"Why?" It was Kenshin who spoke next. He didn't bother to elaborate which why he meant. It was fairly obvious.

"Several reasons," Methos answered. Formally acknowledging the pair, if only in his own mind, as his students. "The first being power."

If he could have, he would have probably foisted at least one of them off on someone else. But Methos hadn't been to Japan in nearly half a millennia. He knew of no one in the country to whom he was willing to entrust a fledgling immortal. Heck, he didn't know anyone in the general area period.

No one could truly understand a Quickening without experiencing it for themselves. The unique mix of pain and pleasure proved an irresistible temptation for some immortals. They got addicted. Fortunately for him, that was one affliction Methos had never suffered from. Any benefits a quickening bestowed just weren't worth the risks, at least in his opinion.

The brunette was a skilled fighter. Far more skilled than he usually let on, even to his friends. But that didn't mean he liked it. Even as Death he had avoided battles that could have lead to a less than temporary demise. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably one of the reasons he had survived to be an ancient.

"And the other reason?"

A sneer crossed Methos' face. "The Game." As long as Immortals continued to be born, created, whatever; there would never be _Only One._ The world was a big place. If their population ever did take such a dangerous dip, a group of a hundred or so could probably wander millennia without encountering each other.

Oh sure, every few centuries some young buck would claim it was the time of the Gathering. Such things always passed though. In time. Besides which, Methos would never admit it to anyone, but he could remember a time when there The Game did not exist.

Usually the ancient wasn't nearly so free with his personal opinion of the closest thing the Immortal race had to a religion. Not that most of them saw it that way. But Methos had a good feeling about these two. They were taking their entrance into the world of immortality very well. Of course, it was possible the pair was just in shock, but he didn't think so.

"You are very lucky you know," Methos told them. Lucky that no one had seen their bodies. "Most new Immortals don't have the luxury of arranging things before they have to disappear."

Kenshin balked. "What do you mean disappear?"

"Well you can't stay here," Methos said reasonably. Not for long anyway. "Sooner or later, someone is going to notice you're not aging."

The redhead's expression went mulish, his eyes creeping towards a steely blue. "That is for the general public," he said in Battousai's voice. "Not my friends."

"Surly you aren't planning on telling them the truth?" the ancient chocked. This was one complication he hadn't seen coming. Studying the younger's expression, Methos came to the conclusion that yes the other was. "They won't accept you," he warned. "A demon, that is what they'll call you." And if words were all that were flung, he would count them all lucky.

Kenshin merely shrugged, turning to start down the path that lead back to Tokyo. If they did, well it would hardly be the first time now would it.

_SSSSSSSSSS_

_Well, someone is going to be in for a surprise_

_And I doubt it will be Kenshin_

_But to find out for sure, please tune in next time_

_For Speak Softly: Chapter Three_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_Well, have a house. Working on furnishing it._

_But that will take awhile. _

_Oh well, at least now I have basic cooking supplies. _

_Trust me, a meal made of a can of sardines and what passes for _

_cheese in this country is not that appealing._

**Chapter Three**

As the immortal trio made their way back to civilization, they talked. Well, to be honest Methos did most of the talking. Trying to convince his new students that they were in the process of making a terrible mistake. He was less than successful.

The pair would have none of it. Kenshin especially being unwilling to deceive his friends. The ancient seriously toyed with the idea of temporarily killing the both of them for quite some time before discarding the notion. Mostly due to the fact they were on foot. Methos knew he couldn't carry both of his companions. Even as slight as the redhead was. Plus, he currently lacked the resources to smuggle two men (corpses) out of the country.

There was nothing for it, Methos thought to himself. He would just have to accompany his charges home, and prepare a plan to pull them all out of the fire. Burning was a nasty way to die. It would be a harsh lesson for the pair, but one they needed to learn.

Their discourse was interrupted briefly when Saitou paused at one of the police way stations. Dropping off his latest, not to mention heavily edited, report to be conveyed to his superiors. Well he couldn't exactly explain he had been killed by a incendiary device which triggered his latent immortality now could he? Though technically it had been the collapse of the building that had ultimately done him in.

None of the junior officers had quite worked up the nerve to ask why he was covered in blood. Something the undercover agent found pathetic. They wouldn't have lasted a week during the height of the revolution. He quickly shrugged it off though. Either they would ship up or ship out, and the wolf didn't really care which.

While the subject of the pairs' friends and family cropped up again and again, other topics were discussed as well. All of them relating some way to immortality. Other people might be content to shove a sword into a fledgling immortal's hand, teach them to use it, and send them on their way; however Methos was not one of them.

The ancient wasn't about to go through all the hassle of teaching a student just so they could lose their head within the first century. Sword skills might help one to survive the Game, but they didn't teach one to live. Besides, there were more important things. Especially as Methos was aware both his new charges at least knew the basics, and probably quite a bit more. They were too comfortable wearing those blades for it to be otherwise. Right now Kenshin and Hajime (as they had given their names) were in no immediate danger.

The ancient hadn't encountered a single member of his kind, hostile or otherwise, since his arrival in Japan, present company not included. In the event that he did, as the pairs' teacher Methos was not only able, but obligated to accept challenges on their behalves.

The current subject was _The Rules of the Game. _Hey, just because Methos didn't believe the Prize existed was no reason to ignore the code the vast majority of Immortals lived by. For one, those who disregarded it also forfeited its protections. Such people tended not to live very long.

A faint frown crossed Kenshin's face as he considered the older man's words. There was just one problem so far as he was concerned. "But?" he questioned. "How do you identify what ground is holy?"

The redhead couldn't help but recall the group of missionaries that had arrived in Tokyo the month before. They seemed to spend more time arguing with each other than trying to convert people. Something he could not understand at all. They all worshiped the same God. What did the little details matter? Did their Lord actually care whether or not instruments accompanied the chorus.

Methos chuckled a bit darkly. "Don't worry about it," he told them half closing his eyes. "The sensation is unmistakable. Only a complete idiot could disregard it." He made a mental note to take the pair to visit a temple at some point, so they could experience it for themselves.

A pair of amber eyes narrowed, catching the implication. "I take it you knew such an idiot," Saitou said dryly, lighting up a cigarette. At least that was one upside to this whole affair, his wife would stop hiding his smokes. Tokio might seem all sweetness and light on the surface, but she had a ruthless streak to match his own. One of the reasons he had married her. And ever since the lady doctor had begun to insist smoking was bad for him she had been determined that he quit.

"It's a rumor really," the ancient said nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "Once upon a time some young fool decided that only ground dedicated to his own religion could possibly be holy." Visions of the disaster danced behind his ever changing eyes. "The volcanic eruption the quickening set off was said to have buried an entire city in lava and ash."

"But you know better," it didn't particularly matter who spoke. "You know it isn't just a rumor."

Methos' lips twisted. "I wasn't there myself." Only half true, he hadn't been within the city limits. Something he was exceedingly grateful for. "But I know someone who was."

Rebecca had been damn lucky not to have been entombed alive. Sometimes Methos wondered if that was what had happened to the silly chit who had set the thing off in the first place. He couldn't muster up that much sympathy if that were the case. Especially as Kedar had been his friend as well. He could only assume surprise had been the primary motivator behind the other's death. That and a refusal to fight on holy ground.

As it was though, Rebecca's glorious copper lockes had been completely burned off. She had also been unconscious for two days after she collapsed, a combination of both physical and mental stress. He had, in fact, been on the verge of resorting to conventional medicine when she awakened. He wouldn't be in the least bit surprised if the other ancient still had nightmares about her ordeal.

Kenshin and Saitou were silent, sober in the face of such horrific news. Even if it had happened long before they had drawn their first breaths. An entire city, woman and children. All of them wiped out in an instant due to one man's action.

"At least one good thing came of it," Methos offered at last. "None of us, not even the Kurgan would ever dare to take a head on holy ground."

"Who is the Kurgan?" Saitou asked, eager to gleam any piece of information that would help him survive the new world he was now a part of. After all, knowledge was power.

"A nightmare," came the reply. "With luck you will never meet him."

The wolf merely nodded thoughtfully, filing away the piece of trivia for future contemplation. It made sense. People were people, no matter how long they lived. They came in black, white, and every imaginable shade of gray in between.

Saitou could feel Battousai watching him out of the corner of his eye. He ignored the sensation. Slay Evil Instantly, those were the words he lived, and would always live by. That his life suddenly had the potential to be so much longer didn't change that.

Make no mistake, Hajime Saitou was no fool. He wasn't about to rush off in search of a monster with centuries more experience than himself. Especially without a plan. Someday though . . .

In truth, the kill would end up going to a man called Conner Macleod. Not for lack of trying on the younger Immortal's part however. If anyone had witnessed the battle, Saitou would have held the honor of being the sole person to ever force the Kurgan into retreat.

"You seem quite unconcerned for someone who shares the world with such men that you do," Kenshin commented. He knew the other was carrying at least one knife. Probably more even though he couldn't see them. But, there wasn't room for anything larger than a dirk to be concealed.

Saitou merely grunted in agreement. Wondering if their new teacher specialized in unarmed combat. There were a few people who possessed the skills to meet any obstacle without fear. Not many though.

Methos on the other hand smirked. "Who says I am unarmed?" With a slightly dramatic flourish, he pulled the six and a half foot broadsword from under his coat. Smirking even harder as his students stopped dead in their tracks. "There's a knack to it," he told them, secreting the blade from view once more. "I'll teach you if you like."

Kenshin definitely liked. Especially as even though he knew it was there, the ex-hitokiri couldn't for the life of him see where the sword had gone to.

_SSSSSSSSSSSSS_

_Big thank you to everyone who reviewed this story_

_Honestly wasn't expecting that big of a response_

_It was a pleasant surprise_

_Also, for those who are wondering_

_No, Saitou won't be a headhunter in the traditional sense_

_He is going to stay in Law Enforcement_

_Occasionally though, he will take on special projects_

_Like when Conner came looking for Slan Quince_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one**_

_**Sorry I'm late**_

_**I had to write two separate reports**_

_**Plus obligatory letters home to family**_

_**Still swear I can write faster than I type**_

_**Don't care what the others say**_

**Chapter Four**

"And that is what happened," Kenshin finished. Patiently waiting for the information to soak in. He couldn't blame them for taking some time. It was an incredible story.

During this pause, Methos deeply regretted not following though with his previous plan. He could have found a way to make it work. When the pair, or rather Kenshin, had said friends, he had been expecting a smaller, much more intimate, group. Say three people, four at the most.

It didn't help that they weren't your average group of peasants either. It was obvious to the ancient's trained eyes that almost all of them were proficient in some sort of combat. The tall silent one especially looked like he could give some immortals a run for their money. Heck, maybe most immortals.

Then Sano cracked his knuckles. The sound far louder than logic suggested. "You better not be planning on running off without me Kenshin." They had settled that after Kyoto. The white-clad man half turned to point at Saitou. "And that goes for you too you squinty eyed bastard. The wolf was an asshole true, but he was their asshole.

"Not to worry Sano," Megumi gave a foxy laugh. "Ken-san isn't going anywhere." A leather collar complete with chain emerged from somewhere within her voluminous sleeves, along with a package of sedative. She knew it had been a good idea to keep these. They had been bound to come in handy someday.

"Erk!" Kenshin ducked frantically. Barely avoiding the collar which had been flung at this throat. Times like this he couldn't help but think that his friends were far more dangerous then his enemies. The latter at least he was allowed to flatten with a well placed _Ryu Tsui Sen. _And he hadn't even been planning on leaving. It just wasn't fair.

Violet eyes locked with amber, the two fledgling immortals sharing a look of complete accord. They had no intention of taking the fall for this. In unison, Kenshin and Saitou each pointed a single finger at their new teacher. "It was his idea!"

Traitors. Methos thought to himself resisting the urge to glare. He could feel the sweat running down his neck as several dozen pair of hostile eyes focused on him. Their owners didn't seem friendly in the least. At the same time though, he could feel a sense of rueful amusement creeping up on him. His students had shifted the blame quite well. A useful skill for any person, immortal or not.

However, these feelings evaporated rather quickly as a petite young woman stepped out of the crowd. Verily bristling with weapons. She also, in spite of her youth, held a clear air of authority. Try to take Kenshin from them would he. "Get him guys," she ordered.

Methos was no fool. He ran. Followed closely by the screaming horde. A vicious curse escaping his lips as a dagger flew over his head (the immortal had ducked or it wouldn't have missed). Even if he had known this was the treatment Misao gave everyone who displeased her, it was doubtful he would have been mollified. Just because such a wound couldn't kill him permanently didn't mean it did not hurt.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before Kenshin called them off. Diffusing the situation with his usual calm and suggesting they all discuss the situation rationally over tea. At least, Methos thought he was fortunate. Until that is he took his first bite of the onigiri. It was awful.

For a moment, the ancient thought this was some sort of subtle revenge. A conclusion that was quickly reconsidered as he noticed the slightly fixed expressions of his dining companions. Forcing himself to swallow, Methos took another bite, thanking his hostess politely.

It wasn't that big of a hardship. The immortal had eaten far worse things over the course of the last five thousand years. The winter he had spent trapped in an ice cave came to mind. After the game had run out, he had made the unpleasant choice between starving to death and taking extreme measures to keep his belly full. Caspian would have undoubtedly approved. But then, Methos had never denied his brother was insane. Besides, it wasn't as though the rice snack would kill him.

His sacrifice was rewarded when Kaoru beamed. An expression that transformed a pretty woman into a truly beautiful one. Not that Methos made a point of noticing. It was clear their was something between this woman and his red headed student. The rest of the table relaxed at this. The atmosphere becoming much more amicable, taking the first step towards welcoming the newcomer into their circle. The conversation becoming more casual as time went on.

When Aoshi finally spoke, it caught Methos by surprise. The tall ninja hadn't said a single word the entire afternoon. "There is still one matter to be settled," he said softly, taking another sip of his tea.

The others looked at him curiously. To be honest, the ancient was a bit curious as well.

"You have not considered all the ramifications of your new nature," the ninja went on. "As you and Saitou move on to new lives," he spoke directly to Kenshin. "You will require resources. Papers, money," he paused. "Intelligence." Aoshi rose to his feet, before abruptly dropping to the ground into a deep bow. "All this can be provided for you."

"Aoshi!" Kenshin sounded horrified. "Aoshi what are you doing? Get up."

The ninja didn't. He did however raise his head to meet his friend's gaze. "I, Shinomori Aoshi, the leader of the Oniwabanshu, swear our loyalty to you. Kenshin Himura." His dark eyes shifted to settle on another figure. "And you Hajime Saitou, for as long as a single member of our line draws breath." In less flowery terms, forever.

One after another, the ninja knelt at the two fledgling immortals' feet. In spite of their submissive posture, it was clear from the stubborn set of their jaws the group would not take no for an answer.

The two sword masters exchanged looks. One resigned, the other amused. I will leave you to guess which was which. Finally Kenshin sighed. "If you are sure," he hedged, half hoping the Oniwaban would recant.

Okina grinned. "Things have been far to dull around here," the old man said. "We need some excitement in our lives or we will lose our edge." Things were never boring around Kenshin and Saitou. Besides, their group had been formed to serve, and the spy could think of far worse masters.

_Another chapter done_

_Not my best, but I wanted to get it up_

_Next chapter will be more humorous_


	5. Chapter 5

_I own nothing and no one_

_If I did the third RK movie would end differently_

_Beginning wasn't that great either_

**Chapter Five**

"We really ought to get you a new sword," Methos commented idly, watching his younger student as the redhead worked on the . He had noticed the weapon's unique design awhile ago, and had really meant to ask about it. But well, he had gotten distracted. The Oniwaban seemed to delight in testing him. Ensuring he was worthy of their Masters.

It hadn't taken the ancient long to realize the clan of ninja wasn't quite as accepting of his presence as they had made out. Not that he should have been surprised by that. The race was sneaky and paranoid by nature. Possibly even more so than himself, Methos considered. At least in certain ways as his very nature gave him some advantages. They, on the other hand, had only one life to lose.

The first couple traps had been fairly easy to avoid. Methos had the feeling he would have lost all respect if he hadn't noticed them. However, they had gotten progressively harder since then. Misao had nearly nailed him the other day.

That wasn't all the group of ninja did either. Aoshi invited him to discuss politics and philosophy. Okina challenged him to games of Go. That wasn't much of a hardship. They spymaster was the best opponent Methos had played with since he had last seen Darius. Some of the others held sparring sessions. Supposedly voluntary ones, but Methos wasn't fooled. He knew his presence was required.

Bit by bit, they were getting past his walls. This would have bothered the immortal more if he wasn't getting past their's at the same time. With every test he passed his welcome less feigned and more real. It was a nice change really, to be around people who almost knew him. Though he constantly reminded himself not to become too comfortable. That would be bad.

In all honesty, Methos was a bit jealous of his new students. There had been a time when the whole of the known world trembled at the mere sound of his name. He had advised kings and ruled kingdoms. He had led vast armies. At any of those times, the immortal would have killed to have such warriors at his side. Others, not himself.

Other than having a clan of ninja sneaking around the property though, things had been remarkably peaceful. Something Methos had been assured was an oddity. One that should be appreciated while it lasted. Lessons were going well. Though at this point, the only thing he had really been doing on the physical side was demonstrating various western techniques the younger pair was likely unfamiliar with.

The ancient had learned through discussion, that between the two of them, there likely wasn't a single style in all of Japan Kenshin and Saitou hadn't at least heard of. They knew as smattering of teachings from outside the land of the rising sun as well. Like any other Master Swordsman, neither of them needed someone to explain how a move was preformed. Given some time, they could work it out themselves.

Somewhat ironically, it was Kenshin that Methos worried about. Hajime, or Saitou as he preferred to be called, seemed to have his head on straight. The wolf-like man was pragmatic, a survivor, like him. Even if he was dedicated to justice to the point of absurdity. Not to mention a bit bloodthirsty, but hey, no one is perfect.

The redhead on the other hand, just seemed to be a bit too gentle. Always perfectly polite; always willing to compromise. Methos knew the other could fight, and fight well. He might not have seen either of the pair go all out yet. He didn't even know Kenshin's style. He always seemed to be elsewhere when the fledgling immortal practiced his kata. Still, Saitou wouldn't have tolerated working with him if it were otherwise.

But there was more to coming out of a life or death battle on top than just skill. Kenshin seemed all to willing to let someone else take the lead. Heck, he let the older doctor's grandchildren bully him, and the oldest of the girls was only seven. The ancient just wasn't sure if the slender man had the backbone to survive centuries of constant combat. A life where a person's sword was often their only companion. That was the reason why the redhead's reaction to the offhand comment surprised him.

The slender figure stiffened, pausing briefly in his task. "That will not be necessary sensei," Kenshin said coolly putting down the stone to pick up a polishing cloth. When the older man had originally introduced himself as Peter Helm, he and his old enemy had shared a look of patent disbelief. Agreeing that they would address the man simply as sensei. It was more accurate and would prevent confusion in the long run.

Methos had been pleased. Starting a lecture on the stupidity of immortals who were unwilling to adapt to the changing times. It could be bad enough, he said, when someone held on to an unusual first name. People like Amanda and Matthew had it a bit easier than some. But it was downright foolish to keep your public name the same decade after decade. It made it far too easy for people to track you down.

His students had merely nodded in agreement. Quite familiar with the concept of unwanted company. Now however, the ancient wasn't sure he was. "And why not?" Methos demanded. That blade was completely unsuitable for trying to behead someone.

"Because," the redhead turned to look at the other. "I have taken a vow, never to kill another person again as long as I live."

Part of Methos filed away the fact that Kenshin had finally abandoned his overly humble way of speaking. The larger part however, couldn't believe what he had just heard. "I am sorry, but what did you just say?"

The redhead looked unrepentant. "I will not kill," he repeated. Kenshin paused thinking that statement over. "Not permanently at any rate."

Blood roared in Methos' ears. That was what he had thought the younger had said. "And what," he said silkily. "May I ask caused you to do such an idiotic thing?" The ancient couldn't have known it. But at that moment he sounded remarkably like Hiko Seijuro at his most caustic.

The change that came over Kenshin was remarkable. He stood up straight, lips thin as he regarded Methos. His mask falling away revealing the rod of steel at his core. "That is none of your concern," he said coldly eyes sliding towards blue.

"Wrong," his teacher spat not intimidated in the least. "It is very much my concern." Odd, before today Kenshin had seemed perfectly sane. This vow of his though, was tantamount to suicide. Especially for an immortal.

The redhead remained suddenly silent.

Methos sighed. "Very well don't tell me. It doesn't matter." He took a step forward, looming over the smaller man. "What does matter is that you are going to retract this ridiculous promise and get yourself a proper katana." His words held no room for negotiation, but Kenshin didn't see it that way.

"I won't," and that was that.

The argument raged for weeks, the only pauses being at mealtimes. Kaoru having threatened to brain the first person who so much as said the word sword with her bokken. Methos coming to deeply regret his thoughts about Kenshin's easy going personality more with every passing day. The previous version of his student had been far easier to deal with.

And, no matter what the ancient immortal did, none of his arguments seemed to have any effect on the redhead. Kenshin I mean. His other student just found the entire situation amusing. Just about Saitou's only contribution was that it wasn't his duty to air the other man's dirty laundry behind his back. Methos had wisely dropped the line of questioning after that, seeing the unspoken warning in his other charge's amber gaze.

Then, one morning the dojo woke up to an unpleasant realization. Kenshin was gone.

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

_Does this count as a cliffy?_

_I mean, he is not dead, just gone._

_As always please review_

_It makes me happy_

_Oh, and thanks to Weasel Fu_

_Loved your mini omake_

_Will have to write something similar for the epilogue_


	6. Chapter 6

_I own neither Rurouni Kenshin or Highlander_

_Please don't sue me. For one, I could not afford it_

_I would have to marry a Moroccan and stay here_

_Sometimes I feel like all I do is apologize to you all_

_Excuse of the week is technical difficulties_

_Finally just downloaded Open Office_

**Chapter Six**

To say the residents of the dojo were pleased by Kenshin's absence would have been a vast overstatement. However, they had settled down quickly enough. Most of them anyway. Everyone save the one person who hadn't the faintest clue where the redhead had gone. The others had guessed.

Methos snarled, resisting the urge to kick the nearby fence. Temporarily breaking his foot would in no way improve the current situation. Now he remembered why he didn't like taking on students. It was far too stressful. Not that the situation would improve once they were trained. The ancient knew approximately where each and every one of his former students were at this moment. He was a bit of a worry wart that way.

The immortal turned, pacing back the other way. Continuing his tirade of ancient curses, only a few of which were understood by his audience. Finally, the brunette took a deep breath. Then another, this was getting him nowhere.

"I am going to kill him," Methos announced calmly. Probably more than once. Kenshin wasn't nearly old enough ( in the terms of their race at least) to be wandering around by himself. What if he ran into a headhunter?

Like his younger student, Methos also possessed a dragon's eyes. Going from a dark brown color all the way through hazel to pure gold. Something Saitou noted with interest as the ever changing gaze was focused on him. "You could show a bit more concern you know," the ancient spat.

Hajime Saitou was hardly the type of person to wear his heart on his sleeve. But Methos had known men like him before. Just because they didn't show it, didn't mean they were devoid of feeling. And it was obvious his two students knew each other well. Better than Kenshin's friends knew him as ironic as that seemed.

The police officer's only response was to slowly take another drag of his cigarette. Unfortunately his immortality had not resolved that issue to his satisfaction. The fox lady had immediately started going on about second hand smoke. Whatever that was. He would figure it out later.

For now though, Saitou blew the smoke back out. "He'll come back when he is good and ready." It wasn't like Himura was in that much danger. "Not more than usual anyway," he muttered under his breath.

A pair of hazel eyes narrowed at the aside. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" Methos demanded.

Sano chuckled. "What he means is that if someone were to make a list of the ten most skilled swordsmen in Japan, Kenshin's name would be on it." So would Saitou's come to think of it. And Aoshi's, Hiko too. Then there was Enishi. The wild-haired man mentally shook himself. Anyway, his point was that such men inevitably made enemies.

"Oh," Methos said. He had known Kenshin was a good swordsman. But he hadn't known he was that good. "It doesn't matter," the ancient continued after a brief moment of silence. "There is always someone better."

Aside from the rare fellow who was extremely lucky, either an immortal was a good swordsman or they were dead. Their kind tended to collect Masteries the way some people collected postage stamps. He turned to face Aoshi, intent on gaining an ally. "It only takes one mistake." Then it would be all over.

"I doubt any encounter would come to a fight," the ninja answered coolly. "And if the other insisted," Aoshi paused a moment before shrugging. "It has not been so long that Himura has forgotten what it is like to be hunted."

That was one area the redhead had ample experience in. In truth, Kenshin had only worked as an assassin for two years. After that he had been a skirmisher. It had been his job to buy his comrades time to escape, which ensured he was always the last to leave the line.

Countless hours had been spent hunting the Ishin swordsman through Kyoto's bloody streets. Ultimately though, it had been an exercise in frustration. No one had ever caught him. Too often, it had been they who had become the prey. Early warning system or not, Aoshi doubted an immortal would do any better.

Methos meanwhile was looking thoughtful. "And just when," he drawled. "Was Kenshin hunted?" There were several possible explanations for the ninja's statement. But at this point he was unsure which of them, if any, was the correct one.

A pair of dark eyes blinked, Yahiko looking up from his kendo practice before sheathing his bokken. "You have no idea who he is," the boy said, staring at the other in wonder. "Do you?"

"Should I?" asked Methos, wondering just what he had missed.

"Kenshin was the Hitokiri Battousai."

Now it was the ancient's turn to blink. He might have been newly arrived to Japan but he had still heard the tales. Stories of a man-slayer with eyes of fire with hair stained by the blood of his victims. Of an invincible swordsman who reveled in death and destruction. "The Demon of Kyoto?" Methos inquired, just to be sure.

The group nodded. Waiting to see how the ancient immortal reacted to this new information.

Methos just looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging. "Ah well," he sighed. "I guess it is true what they say." At the others' puzzled expressions he elaborated. "It's always the quiet ones."

At the same time this was happening, the object of their discussion was busy climbing a certain mountain, not far outside the borders of Japan's capital. In an attempt to shorten the length of his trip, Kenshin had jumped the train. Unlike his last trip to Kyoto, he didn't have to worry about endangering the other passengers with his presence.

As he approached the summit, the redhead was unsurprised to see someone waiting at the top. Slowly, the redhead walked forward. Stopping a bare three feet in front of the other. "Master," he greeted.

Hiko was silent as he examined his (former) student from head to toe. Something was different. Another would not have sensed anything amiss. Even he would have been unaware, the swords master admitted silently, had he not known the younger man so well. Finally he sighed. "Just what have you done now baka deshi?"

Kenshin winced.

_SSSSSSSSSSSS_

_Not entirely happy with this one_

_Had trouble putting it together_

_But feel I need to post something_

_Have a plan for the next chapter though_

_So no worries_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

**Chapter Seven**

Silently, Hiko accepted the redhead's offer of another cup of tea. Truthfully though, the sword master wished he had something a bit stronger. Of all the days to run out of sake. Mentally he made a note to keep one jug in reserve from now on. Just for occasions such as this.

The dark haired man was not in the habit of drinking to excess. That was a mistake he had made only once. One the memory of his behavior would have ensured he never repeated. Even if his own Shishou hadn't tanned his hide.

Someone who can kill five men with one blow, his Master had lectured. Has no business over imbuing. Still, Hiko couldn't help but think that the long dead man who had taught him had never considered this particular scenario. He doubted any of the twelve previous practitioners of the Honorable Sword of the Flying Heavens had.

Not only had Kenshin died, something the older man tried not to think about, but he was now immortal. Well, not entirely immortal. That was the problem. Hiko was almost tempted to hug the other, not that he would. It would go straight to his student's head (not to mention his pride would never recover).

Instead Hiko snorted. "Typical," he said. "Men have been dying since time began. Yet somehow you can't even manage to do that right." Immediately, the large man started bemoaning how he could have chosen such an idiot as his apprentice. Watching said deshi's change in demeanor with both relief and amusement. Neither of which he let show on his face.

The redhead twitched. "Shishou," he complained. He had not come here to have his inadequacies expanded upon. Again. Though at least his Mater hadn't started in on the childhood stories yet. That was something.

Suddenly Hiko went silent, fixing the younger man with a firm gaze. "You hardly need me to tell you something you have already realized yourself."

Slowly, Kenshin let out a deep breath, not feeling nearly as aggravated as he wanted to. Violet eyes falling to his own cup as he acknowledged the truth of the older man's words. Sometimes he wished the other didn't know him so well.

If he had been present, Methos would have been surprised at the implication the redhead had actually been listening to him. Much less actually considering his arguments. Kenshin had always given the impression the lectures were going in one ear and out the other.

An almost imperceptible grimace flickered over the former assassin's face as he took a sip of tea. "I always suspected my vow would be the death of me one day," Kenshin admitted. "I knew when I made it what the probable consequences were." And though he hadn't actively sought his own death at the time, he hadn't really wanted to live either.

"But things are different now." For one, the stakes were higher. Kenshin could not risk some unscrupulous immortal getting their hands on the secrets of his sword style along with his head. He and Saitou's teacher had explained that aspect of the quickening as well.

Likewise, any immortal who came for him would have lived decades, if not centuries longer than he. It was very unlikely such a man, or woman, would be swayed from their course. Not that that would stop Kenshin from trying. Even in his mortal life, there had been those the redhead had been unable to save from themselves.

Most of them were dead. None of them at his hand. However, the ex-assassin had to admit, if only to himself, that was luck more than anything. He would have killed Ji-ne if Kaoru had not broken free of the other's hold. And reverse blade or no, Shishio had been fortunate the force of the final technique hadn't driven broken ribs into his lungs.

"Then perhaps," his Master's voice interrupted Kenshin's inner musings. "You should think about why you made the vow in the first place."

That was easy, the redhead thought. He hadn't wanted to lose himself. But that was no longer an issue. It hadn't been for some time.

"If it makes you feel any better," Hiko continued, reading the answer in the younger man's face. "Technically, your vow is fulfilled." Kenshin had sworn never to kill another man until the day he died. That he hadn't stayed dead was hardly an issue.

The redhead sighed, the last of his objections evaporating. "I guess that means I need a new katana." He had barely finished the words when a package landed on his lap.

"Open it," his Master ordered.

Frowning, Kenshin did so. Only to have his breath catch in his throat. It was his sword. The blade of Hitokiri Battousai. "Where did you get this?" he whispered.

"Some young idiot left it on a battlefield." A waste of good steel that would have been.

He reached for it, only to pull back at the last moment. "No," Kenshin said, shaking his head. "I can't."

"You have redeemed yourself of your former actions," Hiko scolded. Both voice and eyes oddly gentle. "Doesn't this blade deserve the same chance?"

There was a long moment of silence before Kenshin nodded. His hand closing over the hilt. It was done.

_Finis_

_Apologies to those who wanted an action fic_

_You'll have to wait for the sequel_

_Thought about writing a humorous omake based on one of the reviews_

_Misao pin-cushioned an immortal who challenged Kenshin_

_But I ultimately decided this chapter was too serious for that._

_I'll try to sneak it into the next installment_

_After all, you can't have a Highlander fic without flashbacks_


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